Counting Sheep
by Anna Rousseau
Summary: See what happens when our favourite characters dream of being in the movies
1. In Your Dreams

Title: 'Counting Sheep'  
Author: Anna Rousseau annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk  
Genre: Cast/Crossovers   
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Find out what happens when our favourite ER characters cross over into the land of celluoid film...  
  
Disclaimer: I own all the characters, I have supreme power over what they say and do, I can kill off Cleo if I want...dream on, Anna...  
  
Disclaimer 2: OK, just so I don't get sued, all the ER characters belong to the big guys at WB and the other characters to who has their copyright...capiche...comprendez...das ist gut...and now the story.  
  
Personal note: No offense to any one from Basildon, Essex, UK. If anyone has more ideas for this series, reply via the news group, SVP. My first attempt at humour- but it isn't the laugh a minute sort, so don't expect it:)  
  
  
'COUNTING SHEEP'  
================  
  
Dr. Elizabeth Corday slammed the door of the surgeon's lounge with the strength of a bionic woman, a bionic woman before the bionic pieces where put in place.   
  
This was not the Elizabeth Corday he knew, loved and tormented, Dr. Robert Romano thought as he lay back in a large leather swivel chair no-one else dared to sit in for fear of suspension. *No* Romano mused, this was the remnants of Elizabeth Corday after she had been chewed up, digested and projectile vomited by an eight hour assist on a complex new neurosurgical proceedure. But god, she looked beautiful.  
  
Corday walked over to one the dark brown suede couch in the corner of the room and flopped down into its soft depths with a grunt. She could just imagine how undignified and untidy she looked and heard her grandmother's voice in her head barking at her about the proper way a lady should sit.   
  
She craned her neck to the side with great difficulty, "Shit!" Corday muttered in a low tone as she noticed Romano in the chair opposite her, tapping his fingers together methodically.  
  
"Looking gorgeous, Lizzie!" Romano boomed, handing her a cup of coffee, which she pushed away, with the force of a piece of limp celery.  
  
Corday groaned and clapped her hand to her forehead as if it would stop the herd of elephants inside her cranium from preforming their Gene Kelly tap dance routines. "Not now, Robert," she protested feebly.  
  
Romano grinned slyly, "OK, then Lizzie. Get some sleep, there's an emergency heart transplant in one hour exactly."  
  
Corday opened her eyes quickly, mentally pinching herself, but this wasn't a dream, "Why me?"  
  
"You're Associate Chief of Surgery," Romano shrugged his shoulders as he slammed his mug onto the sideboard and headed for the door. "That's the way the cookie crumbles."  
  
She let out a moan and sunk deeper into the warm suede, "I always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop."  
  
By the time Romano was out of the door, Corday was unconcious  
  
****************  
  
  
A piece of duct tape was fixed across her mouth, Corday screamed, but it came out as a pathetic whimper that sounded like a King Charles Spaniel with stomach ache. Or maybe a pre-op Gretal.  
  
The surgeon glanced around the room, finding it disconcertingly familiar. It resembled one of the senior staff offices at County General. The only difference was this office looked like a 1960's luxury batchelor pad, with pieces of modern artwork, white emulsion walls, op-art blinds, a deep glacier white shag-pile carpet, a red bubble chair and a large black leather swivel chair with its back to a white marble top desk. Classical music played over a modern looking turn table set.  
  
She then inspected herself, she was wearing a Mary Quant style dress and jacket, with a blue gingham print and the occasional signature daisy. A pair of white stilleto heeled leather calf boots completed the period look. *Good God!* Corday thought, if she had bleach blonde hair and dark roots, she might as well be an Essex girl in 80's Basildon.  
  
Corday swiveled around on the office chair, moving slowly to not aggravate the burn marks that were forming on her wrists by the the length of nylon rope tied to them.   
  
She broke out in a cold sweat as she shook her curly copper hair out of her eyes and identified the object.  
  
Attached to the desk next to her was a large, shiny, electrical device...it had a digital display on the front, 57, 56, 55, 54, 53, 52. Corday gasped as she recognised an unnerving numerical pattern. This may be a dream, but she certainly didn't want to die.  
  
The best thing, she decided, was to get as far away as possible. Corday pushed her heels against the desk, in order to create maximum velocity, but instead she moved a centimeter, toppling over and landing painfully on the floor.  
  
Unintentionally, she knocked into the table and the bomb landed on her stomach. She could almost feel it ticking.  
  
Without warning, the frosted glass door burst open and a tall man, with longish dark hair, dressed in a dinner suit and bow tie entered with a Smith and Wesson.  
  
Corday screamed and the man moved over to her, untying her and helping Corday to her feet. She tottered on the high heels for a second before regaining balance, her knees melting at his supportive touch.  
  
She ripped the tape off her mouth, saving her self a trip to the beautician for electrolosis and burst out loud, "My god Kovac, when did your hair get so greasy?" Corday reckoned she could speak her mind in her dreams, and it really *did* need to be said.  
  
Kovac looked puzzled and brushed a hand through his hair self-conciously, "Moneypenny, what are you doing here?"  
  
James Bond-eh? She always had these dreams, but never with Kovac. Doug Ross was more suited to Batman she decided, Malucci just wanted to bed her and Mark, well, he was a rugged as Bill Gates. Corday laughed at Kovac's absurd Croatian accent mixed with a hint of the Queen's english. He sounded even worse than she did when she was trying to impress someone whilst slipping into East End tones.  
  
"I don't know," Corday said truthfully, wondering what would happen next in her dream. She really thought Kovac should wear a suit more often, not that he didn't look good in anything, or nothing...  
  
Kovac waved his gun around and shot at the bomb. It shorted in a blaze of sparks and crackles waking Corday from her dream with in a dream.  
  
She gasped as the chair behind the desk moved around slowly, revealing a bald man in a black suit, groaning under the weight of a massive grey, curly haired dog.  
  
"Blofeld!" Kovac gasped melodramatically, "I should have known it was you!"  
  
"Mister Bond!" Romano boomed as he chucked the dog on to the table, pressing a button and summoning his guards, "We keep meeting in the funniest places!"  
  
"I'd love to stay and chit-chat, but I hear the call of life," he replied very cheesily, Corday really wasn't any good at snappy dialogue in her dreams. Give her a heart that needed a triple coronary bypass and she was fine, but whenever she wrote an article she would come out with the same monotonous tripe every time.  
  
Kovac grabbed Corday's hand roughly and she followed him across the room as they broke through the window and landed deftly in a silver Austin Martin. Within minutes they cleared the vicinity of Romano's, or rather, Blofeld's lair.  
  
  
  
  
"Ah Mr...what was your name?" A tall man with white hair asked, snapping his fingers as if it would cue his memory.  
  
Corday observed her surroundings, the lounge in the ER which had apparently been turned into a sort of gadget laboratory. She was standing in the middle of it at the moment with Kovac and Dr. Gabe Lawrence, who's Altzheimer's was getting worse even in this dream.  
  
"Bond," Kovac replied.  
  
"Ah, Bond, John Bond, I remember," Gabe said as he pushed a button on the coffee table which produced two cups of coffee from out of the fridge.  
  
"So, Q," Kovac started as Corday watched the scientists at work with various gizmos, the only useful one she saw was a demonstration of the Intubocam 2000.  
  
"Hmm?" Gabe asked as produced a donut from his labcoat pocket.  
  
"Q?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"You, Q is you," Kovac explained leaning over to Corday, "he is getting a bit scatty in his old age, Moneypenny."  
  
Corday smiled grimly, it pained her much to see such a great doctor in this state, "So what's your latest invention?" She asked with forced enthusiasm.  
  
"Ahh," Gabe said, putting the name coinfusion out of his head, "this is your new pocket calculator, Mr Prond," Corday sighed as he pulled out a little black object.  
  
"Now pay attention, double-oh, oh, uh, what is it," he asked scratching his head, "these things, you know," he waved his hand over his head, "they just, 'whoosh', you know... I, I blame it on the caffeine."  
  
"Seven," Kovac prompted. "Double oh seven."  
  
Gabe nodded as he slid off the calculator's cover, "Like I said, pay attention, double oh eleven. This is not only an arthmetic aid, no, it has metric to imperial conversion, currency translator and it plays the theme tune from Friends when you use the Pi button. Great- eh?"  
  
Corday went along with it as he started to calculate the volume of a sphere, delighted at his new invention, "Great, that will really come in useful when I'm out for a meal in China and I need to work out the exchange rate!" Kovac said in a very un-Kovac tone of sarcasm.  
  
Gabe looked up annoyed at his procociousness, "What'd'ya want, eh? A BMW that spits fire with revolving numberplates, a tuba toothpaste that is actually dynamite...geez, grow up double-oh, eleven."  
  
"SEVEN!" Kovac grunted, grabbing the device.  
  
"That's what I said, geez!"  
  
********************  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dr. Kerry Weaver collapsed onto a gurney in the pedes ER, relieved that she had found somewhere quiet to take a few minutes rest inbetween two mind-numbingly tedious shifts. She had no intention of doing anything that involved using her neurons in the next 2 hours, and if anyone disturbed her, well, they could go to hell.  
  
With her face set firmly in a grimace she chucked her crutch on the chair next to her and placed her glasses next to a bottle of hydrogen peroxide before she drifted to sleep, firmly hoping it was the one with Kovac in a pair of tight red Speedos.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Captain!"   
  
Weaver opened her eyes and was greeted by seeing the interior of a gigantic bridge of a starship *this dream again, can't I come up with something more original?*  
  
"Kerry?" Asked a bald headed man sat in the command chair next to hers.  
  
She looked down at the PADD sat in her lap, which was now clad in a uniform she reconised off one of the Star Trek series.  
  
Weaver turned to him, "Yes, Mark."  
  
"Who's Mark?" Mark asked as Weaver noted a riduculous blue tattoo that covered half his scalp and forehead, "I'm Greene."  
  
"O-Kay, then," Weaver replied as she looked around the bridge.  
  
"Commander Greene?" A thick Croatian accent asked, as Weaver turned around to see Kovac, complete with Vulcanised ears *dammit, no Speedoes* she cursed.  
  
Greene marched over to Luka's station, "What is it, Luka?" Weaver asked over her shoulder.  
  
Luka looked puzzled, "Captain, I would ask you to refrain from calling me by that name, Lieutenant Commander Kovac will be satisfactory."  
  
"Right," Weaver replied, walking to where Greene was standing.  
  
"What's the matter Kovac," the commander asked sternly.  
  
"There have been complaints about Lieutenant Malucci." Kovac replied, his face void of any expression.  
  
"My best helmsman," Weaver remembered from one of her previous dreams.  
  
"It appears that he has been harrassing our Chief of Engineering, Lieutenant Chen."  
  
Greene chuckled, "I thought that they had something going on."  
  
A young man commented something from his station at systems, "Dave thinks they have, Deb doesn't," he grinned as he analyized some details from a recent away mission to the OR stoke Starship.  
  
"Ensign Carter, I think Lieutenant Chen prefers her full Klingon name," Kovac replied as he ran his fingers over a control panel.  
  
Carter's face flushed from the admonishment, "Right, Jing-Mei."  
  
"I would like to prepare a security team to ascort Lt. Malucci to the brig," Kovac continued as he loaded phaser.  
  
"Yes I agree," Weaver replied as she took on her role as the captain of this damn fine ER stroke Starship, "I don't like the way he's been carrying on with all the yeomen. Consider it an order Kovac."  
  
"Aye, Captain," He turned towards Carter, "Would you like to come, Ensign?"   
  
The over enthusiastic ensign jumped at the offer, "Really, you mean it? Thank you sir, can I Captain Weaver? Ple-ase?"  
  
"Shut up and get off the bridge," Weaver yelled, all to annoyed at Carter's excited response.  
  
As they were just about to leave, Lt. Chen rushed in and hid behind her station at Engineering.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Weaver shrieked, as she saw Lt. Malucci run in after her.  
  
He found Chen in a second and edged closer to her, "Come on, Jing-Mei- I didn't mean *that*, I was just interested in the Klingon etchings in your back for a research project, honest!"  
  
Kovac and Carter grabbed Malucci and dragged him out of the bridge, kicking and screaming.  
  
Weaver sighed as she sank into the Starfleet captain's chair.  
  
"USS County General," she heard a woman say, she turned and saw Randi listening to an earpiece. "Right, so you would say this urgent. Hmm, you wanna talk to the captain, sure, but don't yell at me, geez!"  
  
Weaver called over to the dark haired woman who was dressed in an extremely short and low necked Star Fleet regulation dress, "What is it."  
  
"The Borg, on the main screen," Randi replied popping some gum and turning back to her PADD which was loaded with the Special Summer Sex 2331 edition of 'Hot Bajoran Guys Monthly'.  
  
"On screen," Weaver ordered as she stood up, without the aid of a crutch, well it was her dream and damn the crutch.  
  
"Captain Weaver, we meet again," announced the sardonic overtones of a Borgified man, "It is I, Romanus, four of tertiary adjunct five, commander of the Delta Quadrant Borg.  
  
Weaver sighed, Romano was an asshole in her dreams as well as real life.  
  
"Oh, what can we do for you?"  
  
Romano's voice was mechanical, but it was still loaded with his familiar venom, "Give up your Borg or be assimilated."  
  
"Captain," a emotionless voice said, "I believe my time has come to join the collective of boring Borgs."  
  
"Cleo-of-nine, don't go!" Wailed a lowly ensign in the corner, who bore a striking resemblence to Peter Benton.  
  
"I say good riddance," commented Lt. Chen.  
  
"Hear, hear," shouted Greene, Kovac, Carter and Randi.  
  
Weaver raised her hands to silence the pandemonium, "OK, OK. I get the idea. Which way's the air lock?"  
  
"Ooh, can I push her out, ple-ase?" Carter and Greene asked simultaneously.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""  
  
Mark Greene left the pedes ER quietly, so not to disturb Kerry who was fast asleep, "Hey, Jer?" Mark asked after walking down to admit where Jerry and Randi.  
  
"What?" The clerk replied, looking up from his hand.  
  
"What's free?" Mark asked, rubbing his eyes, fighting away the waves of fatigue  
  
Jerry scanned the board, "Suture room."  
  
"Thanks," Mark said, slightly startled at Randi's next exclamation.  
  
"Ha," she slapped down her cards, "I win, come on, off with your lab coat."  
  
"I thought the idea of strip poker was to get the woman undressed, Jerry!" Malucci commented eyeing up Randi who had only removed her shoes.   
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
In two minutes, Mark had climbed on top of the gurney in the suture room, and was consumed by deep sleep.  
  
""""""""""""""""""""""""""  
  
A few pieces of tumble weed flew past Mark as he walked out of the saloon, the coral doors snapping behind him.  
  
Hey, something wasn't quite right. *Oh my God!* Mark thought, not quite syre what this dream was subliminaly telling him. He was clad head to toe in frontier saloon girl get-up, complete with ruffled petticoats and a corset. This was absurd, Elizabeth in this ensemble would be, well, great...but this really freaked him out.  
  
He was startled by a gun shot that sounded from the wide dirt road that ran inbetween two rows of shops and saloons.  
  
A person in a stetson and jeans blew the smoke away from their gun. Mark moved closer, only then did he recognise the woman, who spoke from underneath the mop of curly hair surrounding her face.  
  
"This town ain't big enough for the both of us," a quaint English voice exclaimed as the other person pushed their stetson from their head to their head. Dark blonde hair cascaded across her plaid shirt.  
  
"Oh yeah?" A throaty American voice challenged.  
  
"So Susan Lewis," Corday spat into a nearby spitoon. Mark grimaced- that was extremely un-Elizabeth like, "You wanna stand down, or have your body riddled by bullets and exploded in the gold mines?"  
  
Susan spat further than Elizabeth, blinking the dust out of her eyes, "Meet me here, noon t'morra, thirty paces, to the death."  
  
"This ain't over yet, sonny," Elizabeth reminded her as Susan mounted her horse and rode away, stopping breifly to swing Mark up onto the saddle behind her.  
  
Mark winced as he heard Corday fire shots after them, why couldn't have been the Baywatch dream?  
  
"""""""""""""""  
TO BE CONTIUNED  
  
  
Hey, I hope my attempt at humour was OK, never really tried it before, appart from one I did with my friend based on my teachers at school, that was satire I guess, it came easy.  
  
Anyone have any ideas on what should happen next. More movies to parody, TV shows even (Ally McBeal, Friends, Star Wars, Indiana Jones?)  
  
Feel free to archive, just tell me where.  
  
annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Nightmare in County General

Title: "Counting Sheep II - Nightmare in County General'  
Author: Anna Rousseau annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk  
Series: Part 2 'Counting Sheep'  
Genre: ER/Multi-Crossovers/Off-Beat Humour  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: See what else happens when more of the ER team cross over into   
La-La Land.  
  
Notes: Thanks for all the suggestions and comments- muchos appreciated. Only two crossovers this time as it is a pretty long one and if I did other ones in this fic it would be ages until I would've got round to posting it. Hope this is amusing- can't promise anything though, comedy is very hard to write. Sorry this fic took so long, what with the 3 other fics I'm on with and a very lenghtly 'Death of a Salesman' Coursework Essay for GCSE. Hope it is semi-funny, enjoy.  
  
  
"COUNTING SHEEP II - NIGHTMARE IN COUNTY GENERAL"  
================================================  
  
  
  
She quickly minimised the window open on her desktop when she heard the sound of footsteps behind her, not wanting anyone to spy on her latest piece X-Files and Chicago Hope NC-17 rated fan fiction. It was slow and she needed to get it finished, as her fans where pleading for the next part.  
  
"How long has he been like that?"  
  
"Twenty, twenty-five minutes."  
  
"Should I wake him up?"  
  
"He's on a double shift, let him sleep."  
  
Randi Fronzak turned back to the computer she was working at, saved the file and closed it quickly then glanced at Carter who was slumped over the other computer, fast asleep.  
  
"Y'know," Randi said to Chuni as she pulled up the CGH website, "he's pretty cute."  
  
"Carter?" Chuni asked as she filled in a set of abdominal T-Sheets.  
  
"Yeah," she replied, looking over the young resident, "clumsy, but I suppose that's endearing. Come to think of it, we must've known him for what...five years."  
  
"Time flies," Chuni replied.  
  
"When you've got a hectic job," Randi concluded.  
  
"Can't understand why he can't get a girl," Chuni stated, "the last few have been real bitches."  
  
Randi nodded as she moved the cup of luke-warm coffee away from Carter so he couldn't knock it over, "That insurance woman and the family divorcee."  
  
"Hmm, he needs to get out more."  
  
Carter stired and moved his head upwards, opening his eyes and then quickly shielding them with his hand, "Oh, man! How long have I..."  
  
"Thirty," Randi intercepted, "Don't worry, you don't talk in your sleep...much."  
  
"Why didn't you tell us before that you think Dr. Greene's hot?" Chuni asked, her face straight.  
  
"Wha-," Randi quickly caught on as she popped a floppy disk out of the A drive. "Yeah, we thought you were a ladies man. I guess the grass is Greener..."   
  
Both the women laughed at the obvious pun and the confused look on the poor man's face.  
  
"Hey, hey," Carter protested still extremely fatigued and now terribly disturbed," I didn't...I'm not..."  
  
Randi and Chuni grinned at him and he reluctantly smiled back, "Oh, a joke- very funny, thanks very much for that. You certainly know how to shock a man."  
  
"I have other ways," Randi whispered into his ear suggestively, quickly concealing the floppy disk in the pocket of her red PVC skirt.  
  
Chuni put a hand on Carter's shoulder, "I also promise not to tell anyone what you said about Dr. Romano."  
  
"Ha ha, very funny," Carter replied, still slightly anxious.  
  
Randi pulled a package out from under the desk and handed it to Carter before moving over to the phone, "This came for you."  
  
"Thanks," he replied absentmindedly opening up the cardboard postal container. A pager, he already had a pager. He was just about to put it back in the packaging and give it to Randi when it beeped shrilly.  
  
No one else seemed to notice its insessant beeps. He was starting to get extremely creeped. Carter looked at the display and jumped.  
  
HI CARTER.  
  
He blurted out what he was thinking, no-one else noticing his mad delusions, "What- how, how?"  
  
DON'T MOVE.  
  
He stood still, pinching himself to see if he was dreaming, "Ow!" Dammit, he was awake and insane, a deadly combination.  
  
THERE ARE THREE MEN OVER THERE IN LAB COATS. THEY'RE AFTER YOU.  
  
Carter looked around, "That's not very descriptive, everyone here wears lab coats," he hissed, not quite sure why he was talking to his pager.  
  
THE ONES WEARING THE SUN GLASSES, THEY'RE GOING TO GET YOU.   
  
"Jesus Christ!" he saw the three figures appear out of no where. Something fishy was going on. "Oh I get it, nice try Malucci, Deb put you up to this, I bet."  
  
THIS ISN'T A JOKE.   
  
The people moved over to the admit desk, "What- what do I do?"  
  
THE LOUNGE IS EMPTY. NOW.  
  
Carter bent over double and quickly moved across the hallway, a nurse dropped a blood sample on the floor as she walked past him, which caused the people in the sun glasses to look up and point at him. As the lounge door closed behind him he leant against a wall, panting with fear, "Shit. What the hell is going on? What did I do to deserve this?"  
  
YOU'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR US.  
  
Carter read the message and looked at it with puzzlement.  
  
YOU CAN NOT SLEEP FOR THINKING OF US.  
  
He frowned, his only explanation seemed very far fetched, "What?"  
  
YOU KNOW SOMETHING IS WRONG. YOU HAVE QUESTIONS, YOU NEED THE ANSWERS.  
  
"Lucy?" Carter asked, he felt stupid calling his pager by the name of his dead medical student, but he had seen weirder things on The X Files recently.  
  
YES?  
  
"Oh my god, my pager is possessed!"  
  
QUICK, THE ELEVATOR.  
  
"Why?"  
  
JUST DO IT.  
  
He moved out of the lounge through the side door quietly, and moved down the hall, the men in glasses unaware of his movements. A nurse in front of him dropped a blood sample.  
  
"Whoa," he whispered, "de ja vu."  
  
ELEVATOR QUICK - COME ON.  
  
Carter rounded the corner and stood in front of where the elevators should be, to find a solid wall and a line of plastic chairs, "Uh...someone stole the elevators."  
  
THEY CHANGED THE PROGRAMME. TAKE STAIRS TO ROOF.  
  
Carter did as he was instructed and rushed up the flights of stairs, closely followed by the men in the white lab coats.  
  
  
  
The wind was shrill, he had never seen it so blustery and Chicago was knick-named the windy city. Carter's lab coat swirled around him as he turned around to find he hadn't been followed. He reckoned that he had lost them around the fourth floor.  
  
"Lucy? What the hell is going on?" Carter shouted into the air as he rubbed his head which was aching severely.  
  
WELL, IF YOU'D GONE TO THE JAZZ NOTE LIKE I ASKED YOU IN MY E-MAIL THEN YOU'D KNOW BY NOW.  
  
"I never got it," Carter replied as he sat down near the spot he and Lucy had sat over a year ago when they had one of their 'talks'.  
  
DAMN PALMTOP'S ACTING UP AGAIN. I THINK MALUCCI BROKE IT.  
  
"Why don't you go haunt him, then you don't have to drive me insane," Carter replied studying the pager.  
  
YOU'RE THE ONE WHO KNOWS THE QUESTION.  
  
"What on earth are you on about?"  
  
WAIT A SEC  
  
Carter jumped as a phone rang, he was certain that his mobile was switched off in his locker. As he reached into his pocket, a hazy patch appeared before his eyes.  
  
"Jesus Christ!" Carter exclaimed as Lucy Knight, the one and only extremely dead med-student appeared in his lap, dressed top to toe in skin tight black PVC and sporting a short Meg Ryan hairdo.  
  
Lucy looked up at Carter who was shaking his head and looked like he was going to faint, she hopped off his lap and stood up, "OK, Dr. Carter, breathe!"  
  
Carter looked up at her as he started to wheeze, "Can't...breathe...can't.."  
  
Lucy racked her brains, "Ummm, geez, I never was any good at this medical stuff...head between your knees," Lucy forced Carter's face down.  
  
He yelped, "Geez Lucy! You trying to break my neck?" Carter asked as he breathed deeply. "OK, so I'm thinking...I'm either totally crazy....or someone's drugged me and ....I'm having a necrophiliac S & M fantasy...got any better suggestions, because both those options scare the hell out of me."  
  
"S & M fantasy eh?" Lucy chuckled as she pushed his chin up with a perfectly manicured finger, "Remember Exam 6..."  
  
"Aggh, Carter- stop thinking these thoughts," he hit his head methodically if it would erase the image of Lucy before him.  
  
Suddenly, Lucy pushed him up and led him to the stairwell, "Where we going?"  
  
"You want the answers, don't you?" Lucy asked as she diverted their path to the edge of the roof. He followed her gaze as their stalkers seemingly materialised on the roof, drawing futuristic pistols.  
  
Carter stuttered and said the first thing that came into his mind, "Uhhh..."  
  
"OK, Carter, we're going to jump," Lucy told him in a very calm matter-of-fact kind of way.  
  
Carter's eyes opened wide, "Are you crazy!"   
  
"No, it's easy, all you-"  
  
Carter retorted quickly, "Easy for you, you're dead, you float through walls and are OK. I'm alive, Lucy. I can't do stuff like this."  
  
Lucy looked at him as she placed a pair of sleek sunglasses on her nose and answered cryptically, "If we need to bend the rules- we bend them a little- remember? You said it."  
  
Carter recalled that conversation with Deb earlier in the year just as Lucy pushed him over the edge of the hospital roof. He closed his eyes and his life flashed before his eyes.   
  
It was pretty boring.  
  
  
  
When he opened his eyes, he was shocked to find himself still breathing, let alone in one piece and in a car with a black interior. He looked around him.  
  
Next to Carter was Lucy who was fiddling with a strange gadget that wouldn't look out of place in a science fiction movie. Opposite her was Maggie Doyle, and driving the car was Jerry Markovic.  
  
"Whoa-" Carter exclaimed, shaking his head, "what are you lot doing?"  
  
Maggie rolled her eyes, "What'cha think?"  
  
Lucy interjected as she powered up the instrument she was holding, "I'll explain later, Maggie, will you help me?"  
  
"Hey, you lot can see Lucy?"  
  
"Yeah, well duh!" Maggie replied, sacastically.  
  
Lucy pointed the 'thing' at Carter and gave her orders promptly, "Take off your shirt."  
  
Carter looked down at himself, he was clad in clothes he had never seen before, a T-shirt, a zip up jacket and jeans, all in black. This was equally as shocking as Lucy's command, "What?"  
  
"Stop the car!" Maggie ordered. Jerry complied, before turning on some loud music by Rammstein.  
  
Jerry chanted in a deep voice along to the music, adding a bit of air guitar to compliment the song, "DU! Du Hast! Du Hast Mich!"  
  
"We think they 'bugged' you," Lucy explained as she lifted up his shirt and placed the machine over his navel.  
  
"What?" Carter asked, totally confused, "Who's they?"  
  
"Agent Romano," Jerry replied, as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Carter thought he had recognised that shiny bald head.  
  
Lucy was fiddling with some buttons and levers, "You're gonna loose it!" Maggie warned.  
  
"What are you doing to me?"  
  
"Romano secretly left a swab inside you, we have to get it out," Lucy told him, she addressed Maggie, "I've got it, clear!"  
  
An electric shock pulsed through Carter's body, "Shit Lucy! Didn't I tell you not to shock a patient who's concious?"  
  
"Apparently not," Maggie quipped as she tossed whatever they had found in his abdomen out of the window. The car started up and within minutes they were outside a run down apartment block.  
  
  
  
  
Carter stepped into the room and was led to a large leather chair which was ripped in places. Opposite him sat a young black man he knew too well.  
  
"Dennis."  
  
Dennis Gant smiled, "Carter, my man!"  
  
Carter gave a half-smile at his dead friend, "What's going on."  
  
"You want to know what's going on?" Dennis asked, leaning forward, his eyes covered with a pair of pince-nez sunglasses. He produced two candies. "Take the toasted mashmellow jelly belly and you walk up, this has all been a dream - choose the Big Red flavoured bean and we'll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes."  
  
A figure walked behind Dennis, "Susan?" Carter asked, looking up, "I thought you went to Phoenix!"  
  
Susan Lewis smiled and didn't reply, he turned back to Dennis, "Which one-" he mused, Carter saw his hand reaching forth for the cream sweet. After all, it was a dream and he could always wake up- couldn't he?  
  
  
  
He struggled to surface from under the liquid, it seemed to pull him futhur into it's depth, what was this stuff, jello? After that he could not remember the series of events, until he woke in an unfamiliar environment and met a team of people he had not seen in years.  
  
"Hmm," Doug Ross though out loud as Carter was strapped into a dentist's chair, "Basic programmes- boring, no, no, no...sports! Yes." He loaded something into a computer and a sharp pain seared through Carter's brain. A strange sensation penetrated every cell in his body as he retained the information.   
  
Carter opened his eyes and came face to face with Doug and Dennis. He took a breath.  
  
"I know basketball."  
  
"Show me."  
  
  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Abby watched Carter's deep sleep as he lay across the admit desk, she really didn't have the heart to wake him. Watching him sleep from curtain one had made her realise how tired she was, and without a second thought she settled back onto the bed and let her mind mute the hustle and bustle of the active ER as she drifted off.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Hey, Buff!" A voice called out from behind her. She gazed at Malucci who was dressed in a really weird Hawaiian print shirt and jeans. He seemed to be addressing her.  
  
"It's Abby. What's wrong Malucci?" Abby corrected as she laughed at his attire then realised that she wasn't actually in the ER, but some sort of High School.  
  
"OK, Buff, if you insist I'll call you Abby- but please, my name is Xander, Malatucci - what sorta crazy noodle dish is that?" He replied as she looked down at her self and gasped.  
  
She looked like a slut. She wore high heeled leather knee-boots, a short shirt and a dangerously low halter neck in bright red. Abby caught a glimpse of her hair, and was shocked to find it bleach blonde, "Aggh!"  
  
Someone tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
"Buffy," an English voice addressed Abby, she turned around to see Elizabeth Corday in a man's suit and rimless spectacles, "Remember, the harvest tonight."  
  
Abby stared at the surgeon, "You want me to assist on an organ harvest?"  
  
Corday stared back, "Uh, no. I want you to assist in slaying the Master."  
  
"Romano?" Abby replied staring at her long laquered nails- she had never managed to grow them this long before. Maybe this dream wasn't so bad, she had better hair, nails, and...oh...her boobs had never been this big before. She looked like Britney Spears for heaven's sake!  
  
"He prefers to be called the Master, or Rocket-" Corday replied as they left the building. It was as dark and as silent as night outside.  
  
All of a sudden she was in a very dark, very spooky grave yard, a piece of meat in her left hand (she got it, a steak- ha ha, her dreams were always pretty corny).  
  
"Umm, Da- Xander, Dr. Corday?" Abby called as she stumbled over a grave stone.  
  
She heard a swoosh behind her, "Ahh, Buffy," a lispy voice called, "we meet again."  
  
"Romano," Abby hissed as she turned around striking him with the piece of beef and executing a series of perfect tae-bo kicks and punches. Those classes she had taken with Lucy had paid off.  
  
Suddenly he grabbed her and lunged his teeth into her neck, "Umm," he gasped, "tap and pump!"  
  
"Get away from her!" A Croatian accent ordered from their side. Luka. Every dream she had- he was her hero... and god he looked good in black.  
  
"Angel!" Romano cursed as they approached each other, Abby laid back on the mossy ground. Just admiring the view...of Luka, admittedly- but my, it was a good view.  
  
"You will never suceed!"  
  
"Oh yeah?" Romano challenged.  
  
"Yeah!" Luka spat back, as the 'Rocket' drew a box out of his satin lined cape.  
  
"OK then," he laid a plastic sheet across the ground. "Twister- to the death!"  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
  
TO BE CONTINUED....  
  
  
More ideas? Parodies? Helpful hints? Story lines? Ways to make this vaguely amusing?  
  
Feel free to comment on alt.tv.er.creative  
  
Archive if you want, just tell me where at annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Do You Know I Still Know What You Did Wh...

Title: 'Counting Sheep III - Do You Know I Still Know What You Did When You Were a Med Student?'  
Series: Counting Sheep  
Author: Anna Rousseau annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk  
Genre: Cast/Multi-Crossovers/Humour   
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: See what happens when the gang dream of being 'in the movies'. Today it's 'Attack of the Killer Accents'...oh I don't want to spoil it for you, so read and see...  
  
'COUNTING SHEEP III - DO YOU KNOW I STILL KNOW WHAT YOU DID WHEN YOU WERE A MED STUDENT?'  
=========================================================================================  
  
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.  
  
Someday Luka Kovac would say something about all these double shifts he was getting. Good natured and caring as he was, a man's gotta sleep. Then again, a man his age should have a social life. What was one of them exactly. He was pretty sure that he had one when he started dating Carol Hathaway, but look what good that had done him. "I still love him Luka," the Croatian mimicked in a falsetto Texan accent. That was the only American one he knew, partly due to all those 'spagetti' westerns (or 'lubienca' westerns to be exact) he had watched when he was a kid, the sort that he had leased out cows for back in the old country. "I'll never forget you, let's bring a DNR back to life, aren't I funny? Let's both lose our jobs, wouldn't that be fun?"  
  
Luka cursed in his native tounge as he lay down on a bed in curtain three, intent on enjoying the 'calm before the storm' as Dr. Weaver put it. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, what *was* with her leg?  
  
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.  
  
"Top of the morning, and what a fine one it is, bigora!" Peter Benton commented as he saw Luka enter the lounge. He span around, his greasy black hair hitting him in the eyes. Since when was Benton Irish? The surgeon continued in his stilted dialect, "Where's me patient dat t'was in curtain tree?"  
  
Kerry Weaver turned around at her locker and replied in some British accent, "Corday's teking lass up t'OR."  
  
Luka's eyes widened, she sounded like Daphne off that comedy show, Fraiser was it? If her emembered correctly from the year he had spent in England improving his fluency in '88, she was speaking like she was in Yorkshire.  
  
"Right you are," Benton acknowledged before heading back upstairs. Luka shook his head as Weaver continued to pour herself coffee.  
  
"Eh up chuck, where's our Carter?"  
  
Luka replied absentmindedly, "I just got on, check the board, huh?"  
  
Drs Greene and Carter burst into the room, chattering away about a trauma in northern accents, Kovac began to rub his temples, this was all too strange.  
  
"That there in'tubation were well 'ard," Carter commented as he picked up a football magazine.   
  
Mark nodded, "Malucci ain't half a daft bat...what were 'e on about, teking ult-trasound? Now there's summit wrong with that lad up't top."  
  
Kerry nodded in agreement, "Gormless."  
  
Green continued in a Yorkshire dialect, "That there Swanns procee'dure worked grand. Nowt wrong with doing Swann's in't ER., eh our lad?"  
  
"Nowt wrong. Don't suppose yer saw footie match last night on't telly?" Carter asked looking up from the magazine he was leafing through.  
  
"Man U against Ars'nel, it were great," Greene replied, getting very animated at the prospect of discussing the off-side rule and bad refereeing.  
  
Weaver also got into the spirit of things, "That Beckham, wha'a plonker, that were a dive, the ref were blind. Definate foul against our lad Seaman."  
  
"Fancy a cuppa?" Greene asked as he got out some mugs and a packet of pyramid PG Tips tea bags.  
  
"Nowt wrong with a quick brew 'fore going up t'see Rer'mano. Two lumps, luv," Weaver replied as Luka watched Dr. Corday walk into the lounge.  
  
"Howdy pardners, I see I got my self a pair of saspirilly swilling no-do-gooders in Exam Two," she said in a Texan twang, looking down her chart. "You folk know where a gal like me could find Yosh?"  
  
Carter broke away from discussing the finer details of red cards to reply. "Went up t'OR with our Benton."  
  
Corday smiled in gratitide, "I'll see ya back at the ranch, Markie boy."  
  
Luka sat down in a corner, hoping this dream would end swiftly and save him from a migraine.  
  
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.  
  
``````````  
Cleo Finch lay back in bed, drained by the excessive amount of moaning brats she'd had to treat that day. Her eye lids were so heavy, she just couldn't be bothered to put on her anti-wrinkle cream, and that was saying something.  
  
As she snuggled beneath her soft duvet she tried to block out the sound of her next door neighbours having sex, in a few minutes she was asleep.  
  
`````````````  
  
"Whoa, babe- that lip gloss is sooo groooovy!" Abby Lockhart exclaimed as she lent in to get a better look at Jing-Mei Chen's mouth.  
  
Cleo looked down quickly, since when did she own a pair of hot pants, a sequined boob-tube and leather knee boots? Come to think of it, she actually recognised the clothes, her surroundings and the familiar kitsch music playing in the lounge. Hey, it *looked* like the lounge, except the an oraange leather couch sat in the corner, the windows were adorned with colourful symmetrical patterns and the whole room had a sort of disco feel to it.  
  
"What's the matter, Cleo?" Abby asked as she tossed back her layered long hair. Cleo rolled her eyes, doesn't she know that the Farrah Fawcett went out like two decades ago, and med-students were supposed to be in touch with modern culture.  
  
"Nothing," Cleo replied staring blankly at Jing-Mei who was applying some sort of glitter to her eye lids. They all turned as the door opened to reveal Dave Malucci in a pair of flared drain-pipe jeans and a scrub top, his hair in an out of date mullet.  
  
"Anyone seen the Chief?" He was met by a series of heads shaking, "Oh well. Nice hair, Dr. Chen."  
  
She rolled her eyes and tossed back her 'do' which she had spent the best part of an hour perfecting with gel, tongs, blow drying and a serious amout of hair spray so it would flick out properly.  
  
The phone on the counter rang and Abby picked it up as she blew bubbles with her chewing gum, "Hello?"  
  
"Oh, hi Robbie. Yeah, the roof? We'll be right up," Abby replied as the phone slammed down. "Psych patient needs sedating on the roof, he's gonna jump. Looks like a job for Robbie's Angels."  
  
Cleo laughed, she souldn't really remember the last time she had, and maybe she should do it a bit often come to think about it. Anyway, shouldn't it be Robbie's Robots, who was this Robbie anyway, and why the hell was she dreaming about being a Charlie's Angel? She concluded that being around Peter Benton too much was a bad thing.  
  
"Prep for raving lunatic," Jing-Mei grabbed a purse and rifled through it as Abby listed things they might need, "Hairspray?"  
  
"Check."  
  
"Lipgloss?"   
  
"Check."  
  
"False Eyelashes?"  
  
"Oh, uh...they must be in here - ah, check!"  
  
"Haldol?"  
  
"Uh yeah, I nearly forgot, check."  
  
Cleo rolled her eyes as they dashed out of the lounge running precariously on siletto heels and platform sandals, she followed them relucantly after emitting a gasp when she caught a glimpse of her massive Afro hair in the mirror.  
  
Abby stopped dead in her tracks and doubled back to the lounge, "We nearly forgot gum, you freaks!"  
  
````````````  
  
Cleo discovered that boob tubes weren't exactly the thing to wear when you were standing on a roof in Chicago, they didn't call it 'Windy' for nothing, and sequins were not the world's best insulator, despite what anyone else may say.  
  
She watched on in a daze as Jing-Mei and Abby went about doing a series of impressive if useless karate kicks and finally bringing the patient to the safety of the ground.  
  
"Cleo, the Haldol?" Abby asked as she checked her reflection in a nearby puddle of water.  
  
She grabbed the vial and began drawing the sedative into a syringe, "How much, 10cc?"  
  
Jing-Mei laughed, "How are we supposed to know? Were only women for heaven's sake! Give him that, if he doesn't go out, give him more, if it's too much, then too bad!"  
  
"Did you go to a Grenada med school by any chance?" Cleo asked as she injected the drug intra venously to the man who was pinned to the floor by Jing-Mei.  
  
"Hey Cleo," she turned around. The pediatrician recognised that voice, the person behind her was no other than...  
  
"Peter?" Cleo asked as she aproached him, the Haldol and syringe in her left hand.  
  
"Who's Peter?" Peter replied as he placed some sunglasses on his nose and smoothed out his leather coat. A few gold medallions clinked in the wind, "I'm Shaft."  
  
Cleo arched her eye brows and noted, "The private dick. Who gets all the chicks?"  
  
"They're talking about Shaft," he replied and took her in a passionate kiss, inadvertantly sticking himself with the Haldol laced needle. Within seconds he was motionless on the ground.  
  
Cleo grunted, "No wonder my ex-boyfriend said I had the kiss of death."  
  
````````````  
...........  
  
Nothing was going Dave Malucci's way today. Now he thought about, when *did* anything actually go his way. This day was by no means unique in its awfulness. Yet more butt boils, haemorroids, cranky geriatrics, bratty kids, threats from Weaver 'and how come Jing-Mei washes her hair whenever I want a date?' It perplexed him to say the least.  
  
As Dr. Greene reminded him, it always helped to 'change gear' before going home after a rough day, so that's why he had gone to the fairground at the pier on Lake Michigan and now he was staring at an automated fortune telling monkey in a glass booth. What would he wish for? A new convertible so he wouldn't have to ride into work, nah, he'd get out of shape - a date with the lovely Dr. Chen, yeah right, in his dreams...things were so much less complicated when he was a kid.   
Absentmindedly he blurted something out which he totally forgot about by the time he was home and drifting off to sleep.  
  
"I wish I was a kid, I wish I were small."  
  
...........  
  
Dave woke reluctantly in Exam Three, not believing that he was still at the hospital. He grumbled to himself and jumped off the gurney. Whoa, it had never been that high before, had it?  
  
As he walked along to admit, he whistled a tune and rubbed his bleary eyes. "Hey, Chief."  
He clapped a hand over his mouth. That wasn't his voice. It was high and squeaky, he sounded like a damn choirboy, for pete's sake.  
  
Weaver looked down at him, "Can I help you?" Dave stopped: Weaver was taller than him? He hadn't been this small since kindergarten. Oh man! The wish he made. If this wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare, or even worse, real life.  
  
"Uh, I uh," Dave squeaked as he backed away from the desk, "I, ah -"  
  
"Whoa, watch it, sweetie!" Jing-Mei exclaimed as he hit her legs, Dave blushed. She had called him sweetie, maybe this wasn't a bad thing after all. "Aren't you cute, come here." She scooped him up into her arms and mussed his hair. This definately wasn't a bad thing at all, Dave thought as she planted a kiss on his cheek.  
  
He basked in Jing-Mei's embrace happily, opening his eyes a minute later only to find every single female in the ER mussing his hair and complimenting him on his cuteness.  
  
"Isn't he adorable?" Lydia said pinching his cheek.  
  
"He's the sweetest-" commented Abby as she tickled him.  
  
"The cutest thing," even Weaver seemed taken in by is irresistable charm.  
  
He smiled, he couldn't remember the last time he had pulled so many chicks. His reverie was soon broken by a familar voice.  
  
"Give Auntie Haleh a kiss."  
  
Dave screamed.  
  
..............  
  
In fact he was still screaming when he woke up. "Thank god that was a nightmare," Dave said to himself as he looked around the darkened Suture Room. He noted that his feet were hanging off the edge, Dave had not shrunk after all and his voice was still as deep and masculine as ever.   
  
He sat up in the bed for a while. All he could hear was his own breathing breaking the eerie silence in the examination room. Dave broke out in a cold sweat as he heard a soft fluttering.  
  
He pushed himself off the gurney and moved closer to where the sound was coming from. It seemed that the noise was being emitted from one of the beech wood cupboards along the back wall. Dave had heard that some times unwilling surgical patients who liked to eat Wendy Goldman's taffy when they had oseophagial tumours were found in these cabinets, choking.  
  
As Dave opened the door, he dismissed that theory, only to be confronted by an improbable reality.  
  
Thousands of swabs were flying out of the shelves, hitting him at high speed, eventually bringing him to the ground and smothering him so he could hardly breathe. Dave waved his hands around in panic, attempting to pull the mischievous pieces of cotton wool out of his mouth. The swabs chirped and purred gleefully like Tribbles, and they seemed to multiply like them too. They surrounded him like a blizzard of deadly fluff before settling around him and tickling the doctor.  
  
"Hel-" was all he managed to get out as yet another piece of fluff decided to kill him, he collapsed into giggles as half of them continued to tickle his body. Within seconds, the emergency medicine resident was nothing more but an inside-out soft toy.  
  
...............  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
Randi Fronzak's hooped earrings swung violently into the side of her neck as she teetered along the corridor in her kitten heels at great speed to Exam Two, she tapped her pocket to make sure her floppy disk was still were it should be. Randi definately didn't want Malucci to get his hands on her NC-17 rated X-Files/Buffy slash fiction.  
  
She blew a bubble as she entered Curtain Three and flicked on the switch, undoing a button of her lepord print sheer blouse for the benefit of the attending who was lying in the bed furthest from her.  
  
Randi walked over to were Kovac was sleeping, she really didn't have to nerve to wake him. The poor guy doesn't get laid, he might as well be allowed to sleep. She laid down in the opposite bed. Come to think of it, a lot of the docs were sleeping mid shift and she was getting pretty tired herself. The prospect of spending another two hours with that bitch Amira was the clincher. If only Jerry hadn't fone off to run that Kangaroo sanctuary with his mom. She placed her gum on the EKG and closed her eyes, planning her next fiction, maybe set in a hospital...in Chicago, in the ER...and the main character was going to be Croatian...that sounded right.  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
"Hey Randi!"  
  
"It's the Fronz!"  
  
She popped a bubble of pink gum as she span around in her high heels, pushing her shades down her straight nose, "What's up?"  
  
Randi eyed the girl in front of her, she was wearing a tight knee length skirt, a white blouse with a scarf in a kitten bow topped off with a pink satin jacket, just like the desk clerk. Students rushed past them in leather jackets, poodle skirts and Grace Kelly style dresses.  
  
"Johnnie's gonna jump the bleachers on his Harley, wanna come?" Asked the strawberry blonde, that wasn't Abby was it? "Come on, Dave and I are gonna go."  
  
Randi looked up and acknowledged the guy in a black leather jacket and his hair in a quiff, "Hey Malucci, Carter's gonna jump the bleachers? Wait a sec, Carter has a motorcycle?"  
  
Dave looked at her over the top of his shades, "Uh- yeah."  
  
"Since when, I knew Mark had one-" Randi replied as the walked over to the track.  
  
Abby looked at her like she was from another dimension. Thinking about it Randi decided that wasn't quite the best comparison, "Since ever, and Mark *Greene* on a bike, yeah that'd be the day."  
  
Randi raised an eyebrow as she saw Carter on his shining black bike. His hair was quiffed not unlike Malucci's and he wore an identical jacket. *God* he was so hot it made her gasp in surprise. When she woke up, Randi was going to make sure she got Carter into a pair of nice tight jeans. She surveyed him one more time as she blew a big bubble, her mouth curved into a grin. Or out of them at any rate.  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
THE END  
  
Feedback, suggestions, constructive critism all to annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk  
Feel free to archive just tell me where  
  
Anna Rousseau :o)  
  
  
  



End file.
